


Precious and Fragile Things

by Shinybug



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:26:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinybug/pseuds/Shinybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was beyond dangerous to think of Arthur as vulnerable, as dangerous to Merlin as the secret of his magic. (Episode 1x13)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precious and Fragile Things

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Чувство, хрупкое и беззаветное](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5670184) by [krasnoe_solnishko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krasnoe_solnishko/pseuds/krasnoe_solnishko)



*~*~*~*

Merlin gently pushed the door open and cautiously entered on silent feet, unsure of what he might find on the other side. His gaze snagged on the serving girl in the center of the room, pouring steaming water from a pot into Arthur's copper wash tub, her forearms wet, muscles straining. Arthur stood behind her, a porcelain shadow, pale as snow. He cradled his left arm in his right, holding himself so still he might not even have been breathing. His blue eyes lifted to meet Merlin's, his gaze clouded.

"I called for you," Arthur said, and even in his state somehow the murmur sounded imperious and reproachful.

"I'm sorry, my lord. My mother is ill as well, and Gaius and I...were tending to her."

Arthur's gaze sharpened and he frowned. "Hunith is here? Is it serious?"

Merlin blinked at the thread of weary alarm in his voice, unprepared for the prince to be reaching for his sling and his jacket with sluggish movements. Merlin nodded his head, feeling dark things shift inside, resettling. "It was serious. I thought for a while that she would not... But Gaius believes she'll recover completely now, that she's out of the woods."

There was relief in Arthur's face, a raw emotion just beneath his almost translucent skin. "I should visit her, offer her my well wishes." His hand still clutched his jacket and sling, and he awkwardly attempted to put them on one-handed. To his credit he only swayed a little bit on his feet, though he looked about ten seconds from collapse.

Merlin's hands reached out involuntarily to steady Arthur, but he pulled back and clenched them into fists at his sides. "You shouldn't, really. Not yet. I mean, it's good of you to want to help, more than good. But she's sleeping right now, and you're in no fit state to be visiting anyone. Oh, here, let me..." Merlin's voice trailed off, throat squeezed tight with the overwhelming knowledge of how many ways everything could have gone horribly, irreparably wrong, all their lives traded like so many playing cards. He strode forward and pulled the fabric from Arthur's too weak grip, smoothing his own fingers over the familiar weave of the red jacket, the buttons he'd polished countless times.

Arthur stood before him looking strangely uncertain, shadowed eyes watching Merlin too intently for comfort. His lips were parted slightly, indecently red when contrasted against pale skin. Merlin stepped backward too quickly, stumbling a bit on the edge of a rug, startled when the forgotten maid cleared her throat politely.

"Your bath, my lord," she murmured, eyes cast downward in a pleasing and unobtrusive way that Merlin had never mastered. Merlin tried to remember her name (Alice? Alena?) and his gaze fell on her round cheeks, flushed prettily from the steam, the hale and hearty strength of her arms below the rolled up sleeves. Beside her, Arthur was as fragile as bone china, frighteningly delicate skin and bones showing in sharp relief.

"Thank you, Alethea," Arthur said, stepping forward to test the temperature with his fingertips. "Very good."

Merlin was somewhat surprised that Arthur knew her name and rather insulted that he would offer his thanks so easily, and in that same moment noticed the trembling of the loose tendrils around Alethea's face, the brighter blush, the twisting hands.

"Shall I attend you, my lord?" she asked, breathlessly, as though Merlin wasn't even in the room. Alethea dared to lift her eyes briefly to meet Arthur's, broadcasting the depth of her feminine sympathy for the crown prince, and to what lengths she was willing to go to improve his health.

Merlin felt a fierce clenching in his gut, a surprising and irrational anger, and turned away so he couldn't see Arthur's reaction, ruthlessly clamping down on his magic before storm clouds could begin to form again. It had been too long a day, with too many emotions involved, and Merlin dropped Arthur's jacket over his chair without caring if Arthur saw, or disapproved. It had been a mistake to come here so soon after his encounter with Nimueh, so soon after tapping into such powerful magics that were still rushing in his veins, barely below the surface. Neither Arthur nor the serving girl deserved any part of Merlin's unpredictable temper.

He was quietly leaving when Arthur finally replied, after a long and far too considering silence, "No, that will be all," to Alethea, who bobbed a curtsy and hid her flushed and disappointed face with admirable grace, barely glancing at Merlin as he held the door for her. He began to follow her out and was both aggrieved and pleased when Arthur said, "Not you, Merlin," sharply and with obvious irritation.

Merlin held his breath, tried to find his center of calm amidst a swirl of messy emotions, and closed the door softly behind Alethea. When he turned around Arthur was trying rather unsuccessfully to take off his shirt, getting tangled in the sleeves and hissing in pain.

"Oh for--just hold on," Merlin said, striding back to help, gently batting away Arthur's hands and loosening the laces at the throat with hands that only shook a little bit--hands that had called on the power of life and death only hours before, hands that had killed in retribution for those he loved. He untangled Arthur from his shirt, unwound the bandage around his chest and tossed the whole mess aside, ignoring Arthur's rolled eyes. He made quick work of Arthur's loose trousers, letting them slide to the floor so Arthur could step out of them. The whole time he could feel Arthur's serious, burning gaze on him, though he refused to meet it.

Arthur put his hand on Merlin's arm for balance when he stepped out of the discarded trousers and into the large copper tub. Merlin felt singed where Arthur's hand had been, and caught a glimpse of even paler skin, the long curve of a thigh, fine blond hairs catching the candle light like a halo. Merlin went to stoke the fire in the hearth, as much as an excuse to step away from all that vulnerable skin as to warm the room. It was beyond dangerous to think of Arthur as vulnerable, as dangerous to Merlin as the secret of his magic.

He heard Arthur sigh deeply behind him, heard the soft splashing of water muffled by steam as he settled in and leaned back. "Don't submerge the wound," Merlin ordered over his shoulder, gruff with frustration. "You'll undo all my--Gaius' good work."

Arthur made an aggravated sound in his throat. "God's wounds, Merlin, were you dropped on your head as a child? Why do you insist--" he broke off abruptly into silence and Merlin turned around. As quickly as Arthur's anger had flared it was gone, leaving in its place some kind of exhausted confusion. "Why do you speak to me the way you do? Like an equal?"

Merlin looked at his hands, the splashes of water on the floor, anywhere but at Arthur. "Honestly? Because you let me."

When Merlin risked a glance at him, Arthur's face held a pained expression and he pressed his eyes with wet fingers. "Just--just--get over here and wash my back. I can't reach like this." He gestured his wound, which Merlin had been avoiding looking at directly. He flinched now at the livid red against smooth white, even though he knew the angry streaks that radiated like a sunburst from the wound were lighter than before, that Arthur would recover.

"And don't be a wilting flower about it," Arthur warned, seeing Merlin's reaction, though his own command was a little shaky. "I can still kick your arse from here to Ealdor."

Merlin's mouth twitched up in a lopsided smile and he knelt behind Arthur, grateful when Arthur handed him the sponge instead of letting Merlin fish around in the water for it. He touched Arthur's shoulder and Arthur leaned forward in the bath, exposing the long plane of his spine. Merlin took a deep breath, rubbed the soap over the sponge, and began to wash.

Arthur didn't ask--order--him to do this often; in general Arthur seemed to prefer bathing himself, or perhaps he sometimes had the serving girls help, Merlin didn't know. But there had been times after a long hunt, or at the end of a hard day of training, when Arthur would sit back and leave the scrubbing to Merlin, who truly hadn't decided whether he loved or hated the chore. He had the feeling that Arthur guessed his indecision and took some wicked pleasure in it, sometimes refusing to leave the tub until Merlin had scoured Arthur's feet to the prince's satisfaction.

But this time felt different, more somber. Merlin followed the curve of a shoulder blade with the sponge, up the nape of Arthur's neck to his hairline, then soaked the sponge in the water and brought it up again. He squeezed slowly and warm water slid down Arthur's back, rinsing the soap away. Arthur's quickly stifled sound of pleasure went straight to Merlin's groin, filling him with equal measures of fear and inevitability.

Merlin bowed his head, which was suddenly heavy. Mere inches from Arthur's skin, he could smell the softness of the lavender soap mingled with the residual sweat of sickness, a scent both bitter and sweet together. He let the scent linger in his open mouth, trying to taste it in the back of his throat. He felt the way Arthur's crossbow must have felt, pulled taut in the brief moments before releasing the arrow that killed the unicorn. His fingers let the sponge slip down into the water, splaying out against the nape of Arthur's neck with a familiarity he had never allowed himself before, and could easily get him sacked or worse.

He found he didn't care. So many things had been weighed in the balance lately, and this felt just as important as life, as death. After everything, he had earned a small moment for himself, one fragile opportunity.

Arthur stiffened beneath Merlin's hand and Merlin stroked the side of his neck gently with his thumb, a small soothing motion better suited for a restless horse than a crown prince.

"I've been thinking," Merlin began, his breath fanning Arthur's shoulder and causing him to shiver.

"Oh god, are you talking again?" Arthur said with a groan, tipping his head back as if in exasperation but leaving it there when Merlin's fingers threaded into the wet tendrils at his nape. He sounded as wrecked as Merlin felt, and for the first time Merlin had cause to hope.

He studied Arthur's face, shifting slightly to see his profile. Aquiline, carved as in marble, eyelids closed over deep blue, bitten lips pursed lightly. Merlin took a deep breath and leaped. "Arthur...do you believe in destiny?"

Arthur's eyes flew open and he frowned, staring fixedly at the fire in the hearth, clearly so taken aback that he didn't even correct Merlin's use of his given name. "I believe in free will. Destiny is a lie that cowards tell themselves to appease their own guilt, and brave men tell themselves to validate their own actions as being greater than they are."

Merlin shook his head. "You sound like your father."

"There are worse things to sound like, I suppose."

The hair at Arthur's nape was as soft as unspun wool, curling around Merlin's fingertips, reminding him of warm summer nights after supper when he would comb and card piles of virgin roving for his mother to spin. "Someone told me once that my destiny is tangled up with yours. That we're two sides of the same coin. That I was put on the earth to help you be a good king."

Arthur snorted. "By teaching me patience?" He sounded lazy and amused, but the furrow in his brow bespoke another emotion entirely, and Merlin knew he was listening now with his whole body, really hearing.

Merlin smiled, tightening his hand on Arthur's neck and gauging his reaction, the subtle arch of his back, an intake of breath. "Maybe. But I think I understand now--destiny isn't something you stumble into with eyes closed. It's a choice. I don't have to follow you blindly for the rest of my life because it's my destiny. I'll do it because I want to, because I need to. And I believe you will be a great king, whether I'm by your side or not, even if I have to give my life for yours to get you there. I'll keep making that choice over and over again, because anything else is unthinkable. I just wanted you to know. You deserve to know."

Arthur's breath hitched and Merlin observed the uneven rise and fall of his chest, the erratic and visible pulse in his throat. "God," he whispered, closing his eyes. "God."

Merlin put his other hand on Arthur's shoulder, gripping the warm wet skin, feeling free in a way he'd never felt before, as naked as Arthur but only on the inside. It wasn't a full confession but it was as close as he dared to get just then. After a moment Arthur reached up with his good arm and covered Merlin's hand with his own.

When Merlin finally dropped his open mouth to the muscle of Arthur's shoulder, tasting soap and sweat and life, Arthur took a shuddering breath and released it in a low groan, tightening his hand over Merlin's. Merlin couldn't help but smile, knowing that Arthur could feel the curve of it against his skin, reveling in Arthur's gasping laugh in response, giddy with desire and adrenaline.

He freed his hand from Arthur's and slid it down Arthur's chest, below the water line, resting his palm on Arthur's navel in order to feel him breathe and quiver. He followed the line of muscle with his mouth to bite gently at the junction of neck and shoulder, and Arthur's hands clutched the edge of the copper tub in a white-knuckled grip. Heart beating like a war drum, Merlin reached further down to wrap his hand around Arthur's cock and found it hard as marble and hotter than the water around it, pulsing as he tightened his fist. Arthur's hips bucked upwards sharply, sloshing water over the edge to spill surprising and hot over Merlin's knees. Arthur turned his head blindly, reaching out with a shaking hand to draw Merlin's mouth to his in a kiss that was rough and slow and wet and achingly defenseless.

"Merlin," Arthur said, the same way he'd said 'God,' pressing his forehead to Merlin's and breathing unsteadily.

"Sire," Merlin replied, hand still moving slowly under the water in time to Arthur's breaths.

Arthur groaned. "Of course, now he defers to me."

"Would you rather I didn't?" Merlin twisted his grip just under the head of Arthur's cock, wringing a harsh sound from the prince.

Arthur caught Merlin's mouth again, biting at his lips in a way that felt more like arguing than kissing. "I'd rather you get me out of this tub while I can still be reasonably expected to stand on my own, you tosspot." He punctuated it with a lick down Merlin's chin that was somehow much more appallingly sexy than it had any right to be.

With a desperation and speed that was in no way safe considering Merlin's own innate clumsiness, he dragged Arthur bodily from the copper tub and across the room to the bed, managing to get them both there without further injury by some miracle that owed nothing whatsoever to magic. Arthur was busy tugging at Merlin's clothes with his good arm, peeling the wet layers away with no grace whatsoever, ripping fabric when he had to. Merlin spared a brief thought to the fact that he had few clothes to begin with, but decided he could always steal Arthur's, and so he let the ruined remnants of his shirt fall away with a flash of a grin and stripped off his trousers. Arthur's eyes burned into his, searching, fever-bright and blue as oceans.

"How long?" Arthur asked, pushing his fingers into Merlin's hair as Merlin straddled his hips.

"Since the beginning," he answered and brought their cocks together in one hand, wishing he could put his mouth and his hands everywhere at once, touch and taste and bite and drink Arthur in like the life-giving water he'd tried to sacrifice himself for, but knowing himself to be weak and too close already for anything more than this, now.

"Yes," Arthur gasped, perhaps in answer to all of it, everything.

Merlin leaned down to kiss him, trapping their cocks between their bellies, pressure and heat and friction while he told Arthur with strokes of his tongue every secret he couldn't say with words, everything he felt, his heart feeling fragile and bright. Arthur clutched at his hips and his head, straining upwards with all his remaining strength, spilling between them with a shout and a flood of wet warmth, covering Merlin's cock with slickness, grinding out Merlin's name hot and dirty between his teeth. Merlin held him down and thrust once, twice, trying to hold off longer because this was too good to last but he wanted it to, desperately, as much as he wanted Arthur alive and breathing and acting the prat he'd fallen in love with, but in a few moments it was over regardless. Merlin may have conquered the power of life and death, but his own body was clearly still beyond his control.

Arthur caught him one armed when he fell, Merlin trying to avoid Arthur's wound and collapsing gracelessly to one side, still shuddering. When he opened his eyes a few minutes later Arthur had turned his head to watch him, mouth parted in an almost-smile, bitten red, expression as open as Merlin had ever seen it. Arthur reached up to touch his fingers to Merlin's lips, his cheekbone, his earlobe, wonderingly and with a sense of discovery that seemed out of sequence with everything they had just done.

Merlin rested his palm over Arthur's wound, carefully and without pressure, sensing the still worrisome heat of it and willing it to heal with all of his heart and none of his magic, knowing there to be lines not yet crossed, to be saved for a future time and place, one not so fragile and new.

"What you said before," Arthur began haltingly, pausing as though to gather his words.

"About you being a prat?" Merlin whispered, schooling his expression to be guileless and a bit comical.

Arthur shook his head somberly. "About you giving your life for me. About saving my life."

Merlin looked away. "You said you never listen to me."

"I do when it counts," Arthur replied, sounding spare and wrung out. "You made it sound like something you do often. Like there was more you weren't saying, that I didn't already know about."

Merlin opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Do you trust me?" he asked finally, trying to get away from the awful clawing at the inside of his stomach, guilt and obfuscation.

Arthur grew very still, considering. Merlin held his gaze. "Yes," Arthur answered after a minute, barely more than a whisper pulled from somewhere unwilling but honest.

"Then trust me a while longer," Merlin pleaded, touching Arthur's face, the skin of his cheek close-grained and smooth as marble, pale in the dark.

Arthur nodded and closed his eyes, chest heaving on one deep breath and sigh, giving himself over to sleep.

Merlin found a spare cloth near the wash basin and cleaned his own belly and Arthur's while he slept, stoked the fire one more time and climbed back into bed. He drew the velvet coverlet over the both of them and settled down beside Arthur. He inhaled the scent of him, lavender and musk and salt, finding Arthur's hand and weaving their fingers together, warp and weft.

"Arthur," he whispered silently, and if his eyes flashed gold behind closed lids, if there was something magical and enduring woven into the word, well then it was just between him and night, and hurt no one.

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually the first Merlin fic I ever wrote, which I decided was nothing more than a good exercise in figuring out a new fandom and should just live in Google Docs indefinitely. Then I decided I actually kind of liked it after all. Thanks to Alexia for the beta and encouragement, all those years ago.


End file.
